Beauty and the Quagmire
by bloodrosered
Summary: The men encounter a witch named Kendra-offending her, especially Quagmire. As punishment, the witch transforms Quagmire into a hideous, beastly man with the task of finding a woman to love him and for him to love in return in order to break the spell. Sort of a Beauty and the Beast/Beastly type of story. Whatev. T for obvious reasons-might have some cursing.


The four men sat in their usual booth at the Drunken Clam. A Goth looking girl came into the bar; she had blonde hair with black stripes. Her skin was an odd shade of sickly pale, almost a green. Her eyebrows were bleached as if though she had none at all-the right one was pierced with a small spike. She had half-moon tattoo on her cheek. Her eyes were a piercing, ethereal green. She wore an odd looking black dress. Her fingernails were painted black. She wore smokey eye makeup, giving her face a skull-like appearance. Her lips were red. Crossing her legs, she had fishnet stockings with spiked boots.

Jerome, the bartender, approached the young woman, eyeing her suspiciously.

"ID please," he said. "You don't look old enough to drink, missy."

The young woman just smiled, amused. "I'm much older than you think," she replied.

"Need ID anyway or you can't drink," Jerome replied. "House rules."

The woman gave him a look that would seem to pierce one's soul. Jerome shifted uncomfortably. Needless, the woman only smiled and handed him her driver's license. Jerome read it over carefully, looking at her picture and her date of birth.

"Kendra Hilferty," he read. "Twenty-five years old...blonde, green eyes...five-foot-three...alrighty...you're good."

"Thank you, Jerome," Kendra spoke.

"Anything to drink, Miss Hillferty?"

"A glass of Merlot will suffice, thank you, Mister Jerome."

"How do you know my name?" Jerome asked, pouring her a glass of red wine.

"I asked around," she said matter-of-fact.

She took a sip, looking around, studying each person carefully. She looked at the four men sitting in the spot. Of course, the dark one and the disabled one were good in heart. The fat one was a fool, selfish at times but nonetheless, had good heart. The skinny, large-headed one was oversexed. She read their minds.

"Look at the freak!" Quagmire commented.

Kendra wasn't bothered by his comment. She was used to it. She'd been called a lot of names in her life.

"What do you suppose she's doing here?" asked Cleveland. "I hardly see any women come in the Clam."

"I'm just passing by," said the Goth girl. "Does it bother you that a female is among your kind?"

"Usually this is like...our territory," said Peter. "What's with the face tattoo?"

Kendra smiled. "Do you like it?"

"It's kind of weird," he admitted.

"It's Celtic," she replied. "Surely you know about the Celts."

"If you're talking about other than a sports team, I don't have any idea what you're talking about..." Peter said.

Kendra chuckled, amused by this stupid mortal. "The Celts are Indo-European people that settled in Ireland during the Middle Ages," she spoke. "You are descended from them...as much as everyone from the British Isles."

"Right," said Peter uninterested. "Do you mind? We're trying to have a fun time. You're kind of killing the mood like Buzz Killington."

"Do you always treat women like so?" asked Kendra. "Being so dismissive and indifferent towards them like we are nothing more than furniture?"

"That's what women are there for. To cook, clean, raise children and be quiet and have sex with us."

"How primeval."

Peter just stared dumbly. Kendra was still amused by this stupid buffoon.

"Thank you," Peter said smiling.

"That wasn't a compliment, Peter," said Joe deadpan.

"If it wasn't a compliment, then what did she just call me?" Peter said, now offended.

"She basically called you a caveman," Cleveland said.

"A wonderful observation," Kendra drawled.

"What is your story?" asked Quagmire. "What's a freaky skank like you doing here in Quahog? If you're looking for the freaks and geeks club, it's on the other side of town."

"Had you not been paying attention to what I said earlier? I was just passing through. Are you always disregarding towards women, treating them like objects for your own carnal pleasure?"

"Sure," said Quagmire smirking lustily. "That's what they're there for, isn't it? I mean, I'd bang someone like you if you weren't so...skanky."

"What a superficial, narcissistic, and misogynistic thing to say," Kendra said. "Women aren't just put here for the expense or amusement of men. We were created equally, taken by God's rib. If we were to spring out of your heads, we'd be too powerful and dominate you. If we came from your feet, we'd be subservient to you. But alas we weren't..."

"How philosophical," said Joe.

"And awfully boring. Can you spread your mouth farts somewhere else? We want to watch the game and talk about women's boobs and vaginas."

"Do you have a wife?" asked the woman.

"Um...yes," said Peter.

"Do you love her?"

Now Peter was getting annoyed. "Why the hell would you ask such a question?" he asked.

"Do you love her?"

"Um...yes, I love her."

"Then why bother talking about other women and their parts with your fellow gentlemen friends, drinking and acting like buffoons? Surely a real husband wouldn't be doing such things behind her back."

"OK, bitch, can you just leave? You're pissing us off."

The woman gazed warningly at Peter; her green eyes sparkling with a mixture of calm rage. Cleveland felt scared.

"I'll see you all soon," said Kendra, returning to her seat at the bar.

"What a freak," Quagmire scoffed.

"I dunno, guys," said Cleveland. "I don't think it's a good idea to piss someone like her off."

"Why?" Peter said. "She's just a weirdo."

"She got that kind of...voodoo thing going on."

"Seriously, Cleveland?" said Joe skeptical. "There's no such thing as voodoo."

"I dunno...I heard a lot of stories about magic and stuff as a kid back in Virginia...and I strongly suspect this girl has some kind of voodoo."

The guys just laughed. "Right," Peter said. "Maybe if I stuck some gum in her hair...the next day, I'll wake up with boils on my face."

"A-and I'll turn into a frog who has to be kissed by a princess," laughed Quagmire.

"Maybe I'll start walking on water like Jesus," joined Joe.

Cleveland just remained indifferent to the guys's cynicism. Oh yes. Cleveland heard since he was a little boy from his crazy grandmother about the voodoo. Witches who lived for hundreds of years that put spells on people who offended them. Naturally, he wouldn't be surprised if the voodoo got them.


End file.
